How We Remembered (vanity)

Human Side Up (one of my blogs) ^ | 09/10/05 | self

[the invisib1e hand]

How We Remembered.

While the morning of September 11, 2001 affected people everywhere, the place where I work was one those most greatly, directly struck – literally -- by the attacks. Although I was not there at the time, many of the people I work with had spent their entire careers in the Twin Towers, at one of the several commodities exchanges or affiliated firms located there. Just about every professional associate I have who is over the age of 25 has a 9/11 story to tell. You have seen some of their pictures. One former associate sat at his desk on the 85^th floor of the north Tower that morning, dumbstruck as a strange “dot” appeared in the distance and proceeded to grow at incalculable speed as it approached. He dove under his desk when the image of a jetliner speeding toward him registered. The last thing he saw was its underbelly and wing as it veered up to plow into the building a few floors above him. It is to be expected, then, that when the people on the commodities exchanges pause to remember the morning of 9/11, they remember as well as anyone, because they lived each trying moment of that day.

On Friday morning, September 9, 2005, I entered the building and found two glass cases in the lobby. One contained a soiled but otherwise intact American flag, recovered from the Towers. The other, a few “artifacts” such as battered photo security id’s, a chunk of glass, an iron rivet, the embossed number plate that hung in an elevator doorway identifying the 21^st floor of one of the Towers. The id’s put a face on the tragedy all over again. The first thought that came to mind upon seeing them was, “are they dead or alive?” It bothered me, and I remarked so to the security guard at the metal detector I passed through on my way in. He said, “Yeah. Kinda sets a bad tone for the whole day.” But when I saw unveiled for the first time, a memorial hanging on the wall, my attitude changed. I realized that, to memorialize meant to remember: to relive, in small, manageable quantities, the events, the emotions, the sensations of that terrible day. To view the indelible markers set in the soul from a distance and put them into some sort of perspective -- a part of some bigger picture. Or to acknowledge that they are just too large to put into perspective.

The memorial wall itself consisted of clippings, photos, and some artwork related not only to the attacks, but the remarkable work the exchanges performed in being ready for business a week later. An alternative trading venue had been established, and these markets that the world relies on to facilitate the distribution of things that are such a routine part of everyday life they are taken for granted were fully functioning (while everything changed that day, some things did not, thanks to the people of the commodities exchanges and affiliated firms). A clipping of a Reuters wire news release, dated the morning of September 11, 2001, stated that the exchanges were not open and that traders in other parts of the country could reach no one on the trading floors, and that no comment was available, as yet, from the exchanges themselves. There were pictures before and after. A large, breathtaking shot of the Towers, proud and intact, unaware of the bead drawn upon them. While I stood there viewing this, a trader walked up to reach out and touch the image of the towers with his open hand, and immediately walked on in silence.

By the time we observed a moment of silence at 8:46 Friday morning, and halted our trading for one minute, ignoring the ringing phones and stopping conversations in mid sentence, the power of a memorial began to impress itself upon me. This was the very moment, 4 years ago, that the first Tower was struck by that hijacked jet – and there was no escaping the memory. When we stopped our activities again at 9:03, to remember the moment of impact of the second jet into the south Tower, I was fully engaged in my own memories of that day, and trying to imagine the lives of my associates and friends as they scrambled to get out of Towers. We paused again at 9:59, the time that the first Tower fell. At 10:30, when the second Tower fell and the World Trade Centers and 3000 people were gone, the exchange closed altogether for 30 minutes. A moment of silence was observed as each of the names of the 30 people who were associated with the exchanges and who perished that morning was read over the PA system. Someone sang “God Bless America.” We applauded. At 11:00, we were making markets again. But we remembered.

Something about stopping to remember those terrible moments brought me beyond a tacit acknowledgment of a terrible day 4 years ago and into an active recollection. It was impossible to forget the shock of the news of the first hit. And the terror of the second. And the sinking, crushing sense of helplessness of the towers coming down, the sound of my heart screaming, "NO!" Those were my memories. I can’t begin to imagine what was going through the hearts and minds of my associates who where there, whose city was under attack, who worked together to help one another to safety, who lost friends and loved ones, who spent the next months going to memorial services, who talked about something called “survivor’s guilt,” whose lives were directly impacted that day, and who dealt with it all. But I know that memorial brought that day back, that the markers are firmly set in our souls, and that we will never forget.